


Hot Apple Cider

by princessvicky01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Autumn, Autumnal, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Short & Sweet, cosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessvicky01/pseuds/princessvicky01
Summary: To celebrate my favourite season and since I haven't posted anything for ages, please enjoy some cosy autumnal fluff.Cullen Rutherford x Annabel Trevelyan - early relationship.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford & Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Annabel Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Hot Apple Cider

“It’ll be fun, you do remember that word, right?” Annabel cocks her brow at Cullen but doesn’t wait for an answer, already swinging herself up into the saddle.

She’s not wrong, he thinks, any time alone with her was always enjoyable. It’s just that he has a stack of reports waiting in his office almost as tall as he is. Yet when he spies the tartan rug and tin canteen tied to her mare’s side, the paperwork is almost forgotten. Would it really hurt to spend an hour enjoying the autumnal colours with her?

“I had cook make some hot apple cider,” she carries on, tapping the bottle by her side. 

How did she know that was his favourite tipple on cold winter nights? Cullen watches her carefully for a moment, beyond tempted by the lady and her offering.

“I can always make accompanying me an order if you prefer?” Annabel gives the hint of a knowing smile. “You can be my escort?”

Grabbing his horse's reins, Cullen mounts up, spinning his gelding away purely so he can smirk over his shoulder as he trots away. “Only if you can keep up, my lady!” 

Annabel quickly kicks at her horse to catch up the lost ground and they ride slowly side by side out Skyhold’s gates. The clop hooves on cobblestone soon gives way to crisp rustles as they exit the path. They weave through ankle-deep leaves that make a blanket of intricate colours ranging from pale yellow, to russet brown, through to merlot red which all crinkle pleasantly under their mounts' meandering pace.

Of course, Annabel had been right, although Cullen won’t say that out loud. The bitterness of the wind that stirs the falling leaves is refreshing against the constant fever his lyrium withdrawal brought with it, and it clears lingering concerns from his mind. Even his headache has eased into the background. Had she known? Cullen wonders as he glances over to see her gazing up at the blue sky through bare branches. Had she known today had been a bad day? That he’d awoken with a terrible headache that refused to leave him be? That he’d had to leave his office door open to stay comfortable? That he’d spent the last hour clutching a quill far too tight with nothing to show for it? She seems to sense his gaze, and twists in the saddle to smile brightly at him as if the simple sight of him brought her joy. He can’t help but notice how he returns the expression.

Soon the trees thin, and the ground turns muddier, but the splatter of mud on his boots is worth it as he dismounts and takes in the view. A lake stretches out in front of them, he remembers finding it early on when scouting Skyhold’s surroundings but had thought little of it since. It’s a perfect reflection of the sky; its surface only rippling at rocks around its edges and at the flutter of falling leaves.

Closing his eyes, Cullen breathes deeply through his nostrils, enjoying the tingle and the purity of the crisp scent. He’d spent far too many years patrolling stuffy towers and living his life to a schedule not his own. This makes for a pleasant change. 

The plop of a stone in the water opens his eyes, and he finds Annabel at the lake edge attempting to skip a rock across its surface and failing miserably. 

“You need a smoother pebble,” he interjects, and she frowns at the one in her hand before rummaging around her feet once more.

“Like this?” Annabel holds one up, and with his nod of approval, tosses it straight out into the water with a sinking plonk. The expression of disapproval on her face makes him chuckle, and the look is quickly turned on him. “I suppose you can do better?”

Smirking, Cullen wanders to her side, sharp amber eyes picking out a suitable pebble from the dozens scattered around his feet. “We didn’t all spend our youth attending grand soirees, Lady Annabel,” he inspects his find, then looks to her, noting how a small leaf has somehow landed unnoticed in her hair. “Some of us had fun.” With that, he flicks his wrist and sends the stone skittering over the surface. It bounces with ease, the only evidence of its journey the pattern of ripples in its wake as it makes its way out over the water. 

“So I see,” there is a lithe playfulness to Annabel’s tone as she snuggles up against his side. “Although I can think of something much more fun,” one tiptoe, she reaches up and pecks a kiss against his jaw. Thankfully, Cullen is beyond blushing every time she teased or played coy with him, but he still feels her closeness heat his veins. 

“I bet you can,” he rumbles, leaning in for a deep, lingering, kiss. Her smile rests against his lips for a moment before they part, and for once his mind is as clear as the water before him. 

A tug on his arm breaks his peaceful trance, and he finds himself being dragged over to the thick blanket she must’ve set up when he wasn’t looking. As he settles, she pours a steaming mug of cider and he's hit by the scent of sweet apples spiced with cinnamon. The hot scented steam fills his lungs and warms him right down to his frozen toes. The aroma conjures up images of the little farmstead kitchen where his mother had made great batches of it. For a moment he sees her, hair tied back, ladle in hand, stirring a great big pot while he’d struggled to peer eagerly inside. Cullen takes the mug, wraps both hands around it and studies the drift of steam for a long heartbeat. “How did you know?” He asks quietly.

Annabel frowns, blowing on her own drink. “Know what?”

“About the hot apple cider,” his gaze wanders to her, then back down to it and the comforting memories it stirs. 

“I do listen when you talk,” Annabel shuffles a little closer until her hip bumps against his and she can lean her head on his shoulder. “You told me it was your favourite, one night after a few too many regular ciders. And it just so happens to be my favourite too.”

Cullen can’t recall the conversation, but she’s already distracted him by clinking her tin mug against his. 

“To enjoying the changing seasons together,” she offers up her toast with a smile that spreads from her ruddy cheeks right into the glimmer of her eyes. He agrees and watches her take her first sip. One which is clearly far too hot, and he’s left chuckling once more at her disapproving frown as she sets it aside. 

“Or maybe to just enjoying each other?” Annabel looks hopeful, her every emotion playing across her face as it always did, and Cullen finds the cider is forgotten.

“To both,” he counters, reaching up to pluck a near-perfect crimson leaf from her hair and present it to her as if it were the finest rose. "My lady."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 Hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
